LILIES 



FROM 



THE VALE OF THOUGHT. 



BY 



CARRIE F. JUDD. 



53 



" Your voiceless lips, oh flowers ! are living preachers, 
Each cup a pulpit, and each leaf a book, 
Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers. 
From loneliest nook." 



BUFFALO: 
H. H. OTIS, 288 MAIN STREET 

1878. 

7h ./- 




P5 3S7.S- 



Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1878, 

By CARRIE F. JUDD, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



The Courier Company, 

Electrotypers, Printers and Binders, 
Buffalo, N. Y. 



'T^HE Poems in this little volume were composed 
after the fourteenth, and before the nineteenth, 
year of their author. They are offered as they are, 
with the dew of life's morning fresh upon them. 
They found their growth in the spring-time of a 
young, glad heart. Since then a long season — a 
year and more — of physical suffering has shaded 
with deeper, truer meaning those words and thoughts 
which seem to partake more of poetic fancy than of 
experience. 

They are most lovingly dedicated to my Mother, 
who has ever endeavored to cultivate aright the soil 
wherefrom they sprung; to sow good seed, and, hav- 
ing sown, to watch with faith, trusting all to Him 

who " giveth the increase." 

C. F. J. 

Buffalo, N. Y., April, 1878. 



CONTENTS. 



LEAVES. 

Page. 

Inspiration, 9 

Hymn at the Planting of a Centennial 

Tree, 12 

Abraham Lincoln, ..... 14 

Vox PopuLi, ....... 19 

Requiem, 20 

Desolation, ....... 22 

A Ghost, . 24 

Song of the Engine, 26 

Night, ........ 29 

The Carrier's Dream, ..... 31 

Messenger's Address, ..... 35 

Lines for Miss E. L.'s Album, ... 38 

The Burden of a Heart, .... 40 

A Prayer of Prayers, ..... 43 



vi CONTENTS. 

BUDS. 

Page. 

Counting the Rose-buds, .... 49 

Penitence, 52 

The Village School, .... 56 

Playing Dollies, .60 

April-fools' Day, ..... 63 

The Floral Kingdom, 69 

Winter's Death and Spring's Coronation, 73 

BLOSSOMS. 

Fettered, . . . . ... 79 

The Holy Calm, .82 

The Sumach Tree, .... 84 

Morning, . 86 

To Miss M. E. E., 88 

To Mrs. P. C, 90 

Clouds, 92 

Unsatisfied, 94 

Nature's Worship, 97 

Autumnal Memories, 99 

The Lesson of the Snow, . . . 103 

My Olive Branch, 107 




rtd^S^-VJ-s 



INSPIRATION. 

T NSPIRED by sudden thought the poet sings, 
-*- And seeks to paint his fair ideal in words ; 
The sculptor dreams, and chisels into shape 
The lifeless marble block, that 'neath his touch 
Becomes a form divine, that only needs 
God's living breath to make it glorified. 
Then art conceives, and brings to noble birth 
The offspring fair of inspiration's fire ; 
The canvas speaks in every nation's tongue, 
And tells a wondrous story to the mind : 
Then tuneful muses wake their dormant powers, 
Beneath the mystic holy spark from God, 
And breathe an ode, a plaintive melody. 
To rest tired souls and lull to sweet repose. 



lO INSPIRATION. 

Though poets sing in fitting words and fair, 
The lofty thought can ne'er be brought to earth ; 
It soars above the highest reach of men, 
Eludes the panting soul who fain would grasp 
And e'er retain the flashing fitful guest, 
But leaves Mnemosyne a shadow faint 
By which to trace the spirit as it flies. 
The sculptor carves to realize his dream, 
And moulds a goddess fair, a work supreme, 
But hanging darkly o'er his spirit's sight 
Is human sense, which grossly shuts from view, 
As clouds obscure the sun, the holy light 
Which only heaven could give to perfect it. 
The offspring fair of art with beauty glows, 
But ne'er can beauty reach conception's height : 
A child of earth the first, the latter born 
'Mid angels' thoughts in heaven. A purer gleam 



INSPIRATION. II 

Illumes the living germ, than e'er is caught 
By fairest outgrowth borne by human sprout. 
In vain may angels breathe to mortal men 
Sweet Eden's strains, soft odes of Paradise, 
The mind receives but ne'er imparts its truth ; 
The cord so fine can bind the soul alone. 

O, Inspiration sweet, great gift of God ! 
Thou bearest subtle incense 'neath thy wing ; 
O, fling to me a breath of truth divine, 
A fitting sacrifice to burn with faith, 
On unpolluted altars of the mind. 



HYMN 

OF THE BUFFALO NORMAL SCHOOL GRADUATES AT 
THE PLANTING OF A CENTENNIAL TREE. 

O UNION grand ! what gifts can loving 
souls, 

Who count thy heart's exultant throbs with 
pride, 
Pour out to thee in this thy glory's height, 

To gain thee greater wealth or power beside ; 
To win thee other loves, but none more true, 
A flag more bright, but not of deeper hue ? 

We bring the loyal wills to do and dare. 

Quick hands to raise the wounded when they 
fall. 

Some precious seeds to plant in human hearts, 

A little store of God's unending all ; 



HYMN. 13 

These, watered by our tears, enriched by prayers, 
Shall grow by grace and recompense our cares. 

Thy gen'rous loving soil, oh, Freedom's home ! 

A covenant shall bear for future years ; 
A mute, yet living tree shall be our pledge, 

To root in thee, and tower toward brighter 
spheres : 
Now, in thy warm embrace, thy sacred dust. 
Receive our seal of faith, preserve our trust. 

And fitly, like thyself, it e'er shall be 

A place of soothing rest for peaceful lives ; 

Its leafy nooks the birds shall wake with songs, 
The while its cooling shade the heart revives ; 

In every tuneful wave of restless bough. 

It speaks to us of work, and breathes our vow. 

May 19, 1876. 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN.* 

IN MEMORIAM. 

/^~\ H ! hail, with rejoicing and honor, the 
^-^ light of that day. 

Which bore us a sovereign hero the nation to 

sway; 
A strong, daring soul for our country, to wipe 

out its stains ; 
The rights of his people were holy, he sundered 

their chains. 
Through tides of tumultuous discord he held 

his command, 
The throbs of that noble heart beating were 

felt o'er the land. 

* Written by request for the " Buffalo Lincoln Birthday Asso- 
ciation," February 12, 1876. 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN, 15 

He planted his foot on enslavement and ground 

it to dust, 
He wrested the power from oppressors, left fet- 
ters to rust ; 
Through surges of wild opposition he weathered 

the storm, 
And faced with unwavering courage his charge 

to perform. 
No chaplets of laurel were needed for crowning 

his life. 
Sublimely at last, as he lived it, he finished the 

strife ; - 
A martyr, indeed, for his country, earth's honors 

were vain ; 
A crown of the glory immortal his permanent 

gain. 



l6 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

Though lowly our loftiest homage that name 
to enshrine, 

It e'er in the hearts of his people in splendor 
shall shine. 

The souls of those destitute freedmen in loyalty 
hold 

A monument stronger than granite, more pre- 
cious than gold ; 

'Twas reared on a life of endurance, the work- 
man was Love ; 

The warden to guard and preserve it an angel 
above : 

The key to this glorious structure that dear 
cherished name, 

Inscribed with the blood of his death-wound in 
letters of fame : 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 17 

And storms cannot crumble this pillar or cause 
it to rust, 

No changes of time can obscure it, or print it 
with dust ; 

The blocks in this column of glory are cut from 
the heart, 

Cemented with grateful affection they never can 
part. 

Thus planted on solid foundation, the strength 
of the years. 

And hallowed by rare consecration with ago- 
nized tears, 

Though lost to the life of the listless, this cen- 
otaph grand 

Still looms in its majesty endless, a work of 
God's hand. 



l8 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

Unbound from their fetters, those freedmen 

shall strike for a goal ; 
That pride, which true liberty wakens, ennobles 

the soul. 
His mem'ry a help to advancement, a light to 

their eyes, 
That race to the height of true manhood shall 

steadily rise ; 
And each lofty deed or attainment achieved by 

their hand, 
Shall seek for its first inspiration that name of 

command. 



vox POPULI. 

O GREAT and wondrous voice with awful 
power, 
What grave responsibility is thine ! 
More potent far, thou art, than cogent king 
Or mighty despot reigning o'er his realm; 
Not only dost thou rule a nation great 
And cause prosperity or dire distress, 
But even dost control the minds of men, 
Who bow their heads in humble servitude. 
Obey the fickle dictates of thy mood, 
And fashion even intellect and thought 
According to thy overruling power: 
Then use in fear and reverential awe 
Thy wondrous might; and, ruling, seek 
To make thy voice forever that of God. 



REQUIEM. 

SUNG AT THE DEDICATION OF THE LINCOLN 
MEMORIAL CASE, APRIL lO, 1876. 

HARK to the symphony swelling the earth, 
Angels of Heaven proclaiming its birth; 
Breathing with love are the strains as they roll, 
Freighted with grace of a sanctified soul. 

Sweet unto sadness those purified tones, 
Grief that is rapture, and joys that are moans; 
Sighs for the life which has risen above, 
Joy for the gift of that heaven-sent love. 

Voices of Nature the triumphing lead, 
Sounding in echoes the hymn of the freed ; 



REQUIEM. 21 

New wake the chorus, ye birdlings of song ; 
Sing it, ye streamlets ; the chorus prolong. 

Tell it, ye zephyrs, in murmurings soft, 
Whisper it gently, and bear it aloft ; 
Catch it ye branches that wave in the air, 
Tune your wild harping to melody rare. 

Drawing forth worship at Liberty's shrine, 
Lifting men's hearts in a fervor divine ; 
May your glad tidings to earth never cease. 
Marvelous anthem of freedom and peace ! 



DESOLATION. 

'nr^HE birds have felt the sting of Winter's 

-*- breath, 

And fluttered, off beyond his deadly clutch : 
Forsaken nests fit solitary boughs, 
And suit the solemn sadness of the scene. 
The wind no longer breathes a gentle tune. 
Or whispers soothing music 'mong the trees ; 
But pipes a sad and restless monotone, 
And seems to mourn the falling of the leaves. 
To hide their sad decay from mocking eyes 
It wafts them to their grave, and chants a dirge ; 
While leafless branches bow their heads in grief, 
And settled gloom pervades the lonely place. 
The sun sinks back behind the clouds, abashed, 



DESOLATION. 23 

Nor dares intrude upon the fun'ral scene, 
While all the clouds assume their mourning 
robes, 

And weave thick darkness for a shelt'ring pall. 



A GHOST. 

T T TITH gliding, noiseless tread 
^ ^ It Cometh from the dead ; 
And slips through bolted doors, 
Through windows, walls or floors; 
In trailing garments white. 
Which shed a mystic light ; 
With hollow, bony face. 
Arising out of space. 
With ghastly sunken cast 
As from a rigid fast ; 
With smothered sighs and groans, 
With sound of rattling bones, 
Disjointed and unhitched ; 
Its power of speech bewitched. 



A GHOST. 25 



With ghostly hands upraised, 
It stands like one amazed ; 
Recoiling from the hold 
Of one profanely bold, 
Who seeks to touch the dead- 
But clutches air instead. 

It flaps its trailing shroud, 
Before the mortal cowed. 
Then gives a warning screech 
In lieu of ghostly speech. 
And flitting through the door, 
Is visible no more. 

A thing of air and thought, 
By fickle nightmare wrought. 



SONG OF THE ENGINE. 

SEE the mighty iron-clad monster ; 
Hear his snort of wild defiance ; 
He who can may come and conquer, 
Stands he ready for the challenge : 
Clad in flashing coat of armor, 
In hi^ wondrous strength he glories. 
While his shouts are loud, defiant, 
" Let him come who dares oppose me ! 

Comes the David to Goliath, 
Comes, but not with David's prowess, 
For the stripling soon is vanquished, 
Grovels in the earth beneath him ; 
Loud the engine roars in triumph, 



SONG OF THE ENGINE 2/ 

Tramples on his fallen victim, 
Quickly calls for fresher laurels, 
Pants and sighs for greater conquests. 

Soon his tone is changed to terror. 
From behind comes one to rule him ; 
AH his vaunted speeches vanish, 
Underneath his shield he quivers ; 
Loud he shrieks in fear and anguish, 
From his nostrils pours the lightning, 
Blinds himself with smoke and cinders. 

But the hand behind ne'er tre.nbles. 

Frantic now he struggles madly, 
Like the stag at bay he gaspeth. 
Like a noble spirit wounded, 
Seeks to make a dying effort ; 



28 SONG OF THE ENGINE. 

But the rein is drawn the tighter, 
And his frenzy soon is conquered, 
All his strength avails him nothing, 
'Gainst the power of thought and scheming. 

Then he bends in meek subjection, 
And his voice is low and humble ; 
All his boasting pride has vanished, 
Lost he feels in shame and sorrow. 
Stately in his chastened glory. 
Quick he stills the mocking rabble, 
Yields his might for nobler causes, 
Speaks to man from purer motives. 



NIGHT. 

T~) ESPLENDENT night unveils her starry 

■*- ^ eyes, 

And casts them, twinkling wondrously, on earth. 
Her crescent crown adorns a forehead fair. 
While down her graceful shoulders gleam and 

dance, 
In jets of sparkling, phosphorescent light, 
The rippling tresses of her snowy hair. 
Her taper fingers glitter bright with jewels. 
While lustrous diamonds glisten on her breast. 
And o'er her sombre dress a sheen is cast 
From pearls that lend a fair adorning there. 
Oh, light ! so pure and holy, chastely bright, 
I bend in admiration at thy shrine ; 



30 NIGHT. 

And, while I gaze, the veiling clouds are drawn 
As if thy starry mould, divinely formed, 
Were far too pure, and gloriously fair, 
For earthly eyes to dare to contemplate. 



THE CARRIER'S DREAM. 

T HAD such a queer little dream in the night, 
-*- I thought I would tell it to you, sir , 

'Tain't much to be told, though I couldn't but 
think 
It came very nigh to what's true, sir. 

It seemed all so real, sir, that first when I woke, 
I didn't once think I'd been dreaming, 

I thought I was still in the fairy-land halls. 
So brightly the moonlight was beaming. 

I saw in my dream there were many queer 
looms : 

Each weaver was labelled, '' A Poet ; " 



32 THE carrier's DREAM. 

And what seemed the strangest of all to me, sir, 
Though blindfold, there didn't one know it. 

At last I could see what the stuff was they 
wove ; 

O, New Year's addresses by yards, sir ! 
While New Years to come were arranged in a 
row, 
With fierce little fairies for guards, sir. 

The rooms seemed to swarm with a host of 
wee elves. 

With droll-looking, puckered up faces. 
Who grinned all the time in a terrible way, 

And made up the oddest grimaces. 

I saw some old weaving, all ragged and torn ; 
I wondered, sir, why they should save it • 



THE carrier's DREAM. 33 

But when the blind weavers would feel for 
some woof, 
Those sly little imps sprang and gave it. 

And come to look closer then, all was old woof, 
The new had been used long before, sir. 

Yet each blinded weaver thought his was bran 
new, 
Not knowing 'twas used o'er and o'er, sir. 

And often new weavers came in to the work, 
As often the old ones would leave, sir. 

Those comical imps rolled their eyes with 
delight, 
At every fresh chance to deceive, sir. 

That's all of the dream; now, I guess you will 
see 



34 THE carrier's DREAM. 

The moral ; a plain enough one, sir. 
'Tis this : — said at first by the wisest of Kings 
" There's nothing new under the sun," sir. 

Buffalo Courier, Jan. i, 1877. 
New Year's Address 



A NEW YEAR'S ADDRESS. 

(For Erie Railway Telegraph Messenger.) 

To the tune of the Mystical Keys. 

THROUGH the seldom-ceasing clicking of 
the wires, 
And the service of a might that never tires ; 
Underneath the wordy tide from soul to soul, 
Through the surging names of converse as they 

roll. 
Sounds a voice, though low, lamenting, clear 

and plain, 
With a minor ring of sadness or of pain. 
Ah ! it tells me of a giant caged within, 
Ever groaning for his freedom to begin ; 
Of a mighty, restless spirit chained to earth. 
And his fetters used by men as moneyed worth : 



36 A NEW YEARS ADDRESS. 

But the fiery soul within him Hves and burns. 
And anon unshackled power to him returns. 
Then the roaring, rumbling thunder's angry 
tones 

Mutter awful threats of vengeance 'twixt his 

groans, 
And the flashing flights of lightning, as they 

glare, 
Are the bursts of indignation and despair. 
Men may laugh to fling defiance in his face, 
And parade their petty prowess over space. 
They may claim a power to conquer all is found. 
But beyond an ordained limit they are bound ; 
Over continent and ocean news may stride, 
O'er the chains of fettered genii swiftly glide; 
Eager ears may catch and note it as it flies, 
But the message undelivered worthless lies. 



A NEW year's address. 37 

We, the giant's trusty servants, speed its way ; 

Care, and faithfulness, and honor our array ; 

Out in cold and wintry weather, driving sleet, 

Or the dusty, drowsy summer, in the heat ; 

Whatsoe'er the giant's bidding in his calls, 

We will do our duty bravely as it falls, — 

And although we would with sorrow cause a 
tear. 

Yet we crave to be remembered once a year. 



LINES FOR MISS E. L/S ALBUM. 

TRAV'LING thro' this "vale of tears;" 
Thro' this valley dreary, 
Though life's burdens seem too great, 

For the shoulders weary; 
If we will but go to Christ 

Praying, supplicating, 
He will give the strength we need, 
Spirits elevating. 

He will ease us of our load. 

And our hearts He'll lighten ; 
All the path on which we tread, 

Mercy sweet will brighten. 
If we'll only trust His care ; 

On our Saviour feeding 
In our hearts, — with love and faith 

His commandments heeding. 



LINES FOR MISS E. L. S ALBUM. 39 

We must labor 'evVy day 

In the spirit garden ; 
He will not our merits weigh, 

But offenses pardon ; 
We may often hold the lamp 

For a fellow-being, 
And the light we show to him 

Clears our own dim seeing. 

He will help us bear the cross 

If we're only willing ; 
At the end He'll give the crown, 

Grace our spirits filling: 
Unto everlasting life 

Jesus doth preserve us, 
He will loosen Satan's toils 

And for God reserve us. 



THE BURDEN OF A HEART. 

A WOMAN'S tear? What signifieth that? 
-^ ^ A woman s heart is easily moved to melt ; 
A swelling tale of woe might fill the cup, 

And bring to view the tender passion felt. 

A woman's sigh ? What signifieth that ? 

A tender thought of others' fancied woe 
Perchance gave utterance to that sob suppressed, 

And caused the spark of pity there to glow. 

A woman's trial? What signifieth that? 

A slight, ideal, sentimental cross, 
Which, clothed in sombre sack-cloth, seemeth 
real 

To those who ne'er have robbed it of its gloss. 



THE BURDEN OF A HEART. 41 

A woman's ruin? What signifieth that? 

If she should lose her way, and, stumbling, 
fall, 
It is not mine to near the slums of sin. 

That I may hear her saddened, sorrowing call. 

O, world-wise judge ! thou canst not read the 
heart ; 

That tear was only one of hosts unshed ; 
'Twas not compassion caused the glitt'ring drop, 
But one of heart's mistaken hopes is dead. 

O, world-wise judge ! that weary, hopeless sigh 
Was gathered from the depths of waking trust, 

That only wakes to find deception's wiles, 
To see its ideal crushed, by truth, to dust. 



42 THE BURDEN OF A HEART. 

O, mocking judge ! what knowest thou of trial ? 

Hast helped as much as she to bear the cross? 
Or only lingered by to spy the mote, 

And thought thy beam was gain instead of 
loss. 

O, Levite ! thou dost take the other side, 

And scorn the good Samaritan's noble deed ; 

Take care, in thus denying Jesus' name, 

Thou dost not feel, of Him thou hast no need. 



A PRAYER OF PRAYERS. 

"XT OT knowing aught of penitence, or peace- 

-*" ^ ful love, 

To bow me willingly with lowly knee and heart ; 
To let my spirit pour in restful sweet content 
The tribute of a thankful soul in joyful words. 
But feeling all of wretchedness, and wild remorse, 

With hot rebellion's surging torrent white with 
foam, 

And lashing into wreck the good that strives 

to live 
Upon that seething sea of human misery ; 

Not wishing to be reconciled and drawn to 
peace, 



44 A PRAYER OF PRAYERS. 

Nor yet to have my trembling, storm-torn 
spirit healed ; 

Too proud to hold an outstretched hand for 
that relief, 

Which never is withholden long from those 
who seek ; 

Too bitter in avenging wrath to plead for grace ; 

Too helpless in my deep despair to catch the 
cords 

Of hope, which hang unused and gray with 
dust of years ; 

And yet, beneath this maddening tumult's toss- 
ing waves, 

There flows an under-current of my spirit's tears. 

From this no voices rise, but vapors purified 

And drawn by holy heat of omnipresent love, 

These, pleadful in their silent eloquence, ascend 



A PRAYER OF PRAYERS. 45 

And throneward seem to fling their supplicating 

voice ; — 
" O give a heart to pray ; desire to be forgiven ; 
That, in the soulful wish, the purest germ of 

prayer 
May mount on angel wings to bring a blessing 

back." 
When souls would burn to death with scorch- 
ing sin on earth. 
All racked with fiendish fires, that hell itself 

supplies, 
This stream of living water cools the phantom 

flame, 
And brings instead the purging fire of grace 

divine. 






^1 







COUNTING THE ROSE-BUDS. 

SEE the sweet mother-rose 
Cradling her babies, 
Hear the soft summer winds 
Rocking the roses, 
Feel the light patter rains 
Washing their faces, 
Watch the bright cheeiy sun 
Deep'ning their blushes. 

How many rosy-buds. 

Sweet little mother? 

How many beauty-blows, 

Ripe for expanding? 

"Love cannot count them true," 



50 COUNTING THE ROSE-BUDS. 

Whisper the zephyrs; 

" More than the thorns we are," 

Answer the babies. 

" Soon shall our beauties glow," 

Murmur the roses, 

** Grow for my tresses fair," 

Answers the maiden : 

Never the budlets guessed 

Word of a blemish, 

All their sweet happy life 

Hitherto joyous. 

Long do the petals sweet 
Wait their unfolding; 
Vainly the maiden fair 
Waits her adorning; 



COUNTING THE ROSE-BUDS. 5I 

Gnaws the worm painfully 
Into their bosom, 
Poor little blighted buds, 
Fated to wither! 

Is your life wholly lost 

Since you die early? 

Shall the sweet mother-rose 

Only count sorrow? 

No; for the zephyrs tell 

Lessons imparted, 

And she smiles gladsomely 

Unto the heavens. 



PENITENCE. 

1) OSE-BUD lips are pouting, 
-*- ^ Blue eyes filled with tears ; 
From the tiny pocket 
'Kerchief small appears. 

Not a smile or dimple, 

Lurks on Baby's face ; 
With a brow so scowling, 

They can find no place. 

Baby Lu's been naughty, 
Mamma looks distressed ; 

Baby must be punished, 
Till her fault's confessed. 



PENITENCE 53 



Tears still trickle downwards, 
From the eyes so blue ; 

Mamma's task is hardest, 
O, sweet Baby Lu ! 

Soon the little maiden, 

Slyly lifts her eyes j 
Glances up at mamma. 

In a mute surprise. 

For, two shining tear-drops. 

Quickly Baby spies ; 
Glistening like diamonds, 

In the mother's eyes. 

Ev'rything forgotten, 

But her mamma's grief; 

Quick the precious baby 
Springs to her relief. 



54 PENITENCE. 

" P'ease don't cry!" she whispers, 
"Take my handkersifif ; 

Lulu won't be naughty, 
Not anozer jiff." 

Mamma clasps the darling 
Closely to her breast ; 

Of the tumult raging 
Baby little guessed. 

" I's been naughty, mamma! 

Naughty as I tood ; 
So I'll go in torner, 

Stand dere till I's dood." 

Quick then to the corner, 
Runs sweet Baby Lu ; 

With her dainty 'kerchief, 
Hides the eyes of blue. 



PENITENCE. 55 



Mamma's heart is lightened, 
To her work she turns ; 

From her Baby Lulu, 
Many things she learns. 

When, all fresh and beaming, 

Lulu's face appears ; 
Save upon the 'kerchief, 

There's no trace of tears. 

Baby showers her kisses, 
Sure that she's forgiven ; 

Truly is God's Kingdom, 
Made of such in heaven. 



THE VILLAGE SCHOOL. 

iy yr ERRY, ruddy children 
-^▼-*- Waiting school to caU ; 
Playing round the door-step, 
Lingering in the hall. 

Little bare feet tramping 
To each strait-backed seat ; 

When the school-bell's ringing 
Calls to knowledge sweet. 

Little brown hands folded, 

Little heads bent low ; 
Childish voices murm'ring 

Words that all well know. 



THE VILLAGE SCHOOL. 57 

Softly sounds " Our Father " 

Through the little school, 
Then in one sweet chorus 

Songs rise clear and full. 

Little dog-eared primers 

Grasped by fingers small, 
Tiny voices lisping 

At the teacher's call. 

Little mischiefs peeping 

Out from laughing eyes ; 
Little pranks performing 

Innocently wise. 

Little ears pulled soundly, — 

Little ears grow red ; 
Bad boys in the corner, 

Dunce-cap on each head ! 



58 THE VILLAGE SCHOOL. 

Little dull eyes brighten ; 

Noon has come at last ! 
Little basket-lunches 

Disappearing fast. 

O, how short seems recess 

To the children all ! 
Little lips are pouting, 

At the teacher's call. 

Lessons all recited, 

Books all put away, 
Little arms unfolded, — 

School's out for the day. 

Everything is silent. 
All the children gone, 

And the weary teacher 
Can lifes lessons con. 



THE VILLAGE SCHOOL. 59 

From her inmost feelings, 

Prayers to God ascend ; 
" Keep, oh ! keep Thy children, 

Safe unto the End ! " 



PLAYING DOLLIES. 

TWO METHODS OF JUVENILE DISCIPLINE. 

Ruth 

T 'VE got so many children 

-■- I don't know what to do ! 

I think that I resemble 

The woman in the shoe. 
Ev'ry one is made of paper, 

But then, they do act so : 
For all they are so naughty 

I try to let it go. 

Maude — 

Let me advise you Ruthie ; 

Your treatment is not best ; 
No children without scolding 

Will grow up good or blest ; 



PLAYING DOLLIES. 6l 

And, as the ancient proverb, 
Most truthfully declares, 
" Spare the rod, and spoil the child," 
Yotir treatment witness bears. 

Ruth — 

I do not like to scold them, 

I'm sure 'twould make them cry; 
And then I'd feel so sorry 

If one of them should die. 
My little doggie Carlo, 

Tore one the other day; 
I put it in a coffin, 

And buried it away. 

Maude — 

Their souls don't go to Heaven, 

/ wouldn't feel so bad ; 

Indeed! instead of sorry, 

I think I'm rather glad; 



62 PLAYING DOLLIES. 

For I can make me new ones, 
As often as they die ; 

/ don't stop to bury them, 
All 'round the floor they lie. 

Ruth — 

I'm glad you ain't my mamma, 

You treat your children so ; 
I know that up to Heaven 

The dollies cannot go, 
But perhaps if we are good, 

When we ourselves go there, 
We'll have some little angels, 

For which to pray and care. 



APRIL-FOOLS' DAY. 

GRANDMA, settled cozy, 
In her easy chair, 
Ready is for napping — 
Loses all her care. 

Just as she is dropping 
Off to slumber sweet. 

In come merry children,- 
Mirthfulness replete. 

In their hands tin trumpets, 
Fools' caps on their heads; 

Grandma when not sleeping, 
E'er their presence dreads. 



64 APRIL-FOOLS' DAY. 

Frank, the soldier-leader, 
Just about to drum, 

Gives a smothered whistle, 
Then looks rather glum. 

"Let's clear out!" he whispers, 
" Grandma's sound asleep ; 
'Twouldn't do to rouse her 
From her slumber deep." 

So with rueful faces. 
Turn they to obey, 

Marching like trained soldiers 
In a fine array. 

" Oh, / know ! " says Freddy, 
" Let me tell you quick ; 
Grandma's sleeping soundly. 
Let us play a trick. 



APRIL-FOOLS DAY. 65 

" Dress her like a soldier, 
That will be fun, rare ! 
Do it very softly 

My ! won't Grandma stare ! " 

Back then to the nurs'ry, 

All the children creep ; 
Softly up to Grandma, 

Who is still asleep. 

Frankie takes the knitting 

Gently from her hand ; 
In his black eyes mischief, 

Lays it on the stand ; 

Substitutes the drum-sticks 

For the work withdrawn ; 
Then adjusts the fools' cap 

O'er the one of lawn. 



66 APRIL-FOOLS' DAY. 

When the work 's completed 
Grandma 's all arrayed 

Like the soldier-leader 
Of the small brigade. 

At her queer appearance, 
Little laughs go round ; 

Grandma sleeping lightly, 
Wakens at the sound. 

With a headlong scamper 
All rush out the door, 

Hearing in their exit 

Grandma's 'wakening snore 

*Round then to the window 
Looking from the hall, 

In the greatest hurry, 
Run the children all. 



APRIL-FOOLS' DAY. 6/ 

Consciousness returning, 

Grandma opes her eyes — 
Gives a look of wonder, 

Then attempts to rise. 

With no small amazement, 

At her changed array, 
Slowly to the mirror 

Grandma picks her way. 

At her new adornments 

Grandma laughs aloud, 
From the hall 'tis echoed 

By the juvenile crowd. 

" Give three cheers for Grandma 
Then we're off to school — 
Give them loud and hearty, 
Grandma 's ' April-fool' ! " 



68 APRIL-FOOLS' DAY. 

"Ah! my dears, I've caught you! 
Quickly Grandma cries, 
But the rogues have vanished. 
And not one she spies. 

Grandma sitting, thinking, 
Ponders o'er lifes school ; — 

Though the little childre^i 
Made of her a " fool," 

Never can a member 

Of the good ^^ old school," 

Make a " new school " pupil 
See himself a fool. 



THE FLORAL KINGDOM. 

REIGNING o'er the flow'ry world 
Snowy petals all unfurled, 
Stands the regal Lily tall, 
Gracious sov'reign over all ; 
Bending low the stately head, 
Nodding to each garden bed, 
Comforting the " bleeding heart," 
Ever quick to take its part. 

Standing near his Lily-Queen 
Bowing with a courtly mein. 
See the Tiger Lily-King 
Backward in the breezes swing ; 
Covered with a golden shield, 
Greatest victor on the field, 
Winner of the Lily fair; — 
King and Queen the royal pair. 



70 THE FLORAL KINGDOM. 

Shaded in a mossy dell 
All the royal children dwell ; 
Little ''Lilies of the Vale," 
Growing delicate and pale ; 
Each in robe of glist'ning sheen, 
Guarded by a leaf of green, 
Standing always at its side 
E'er to shelter, help and guide. 

Pansies gay and full of sport 
Are the ladies of the Court ; 
Dressed in purple, black and gold 
Flirting with the Tulips bold ; — 
Courtiers dressed in gold and red 
Bowing each his jaunty head. 
To the lady of his heart 
Sending Cupid's piercing dart. 



THE FLORAL KINGDOM. 71 

Roses gay in silks arrayed 
Duchesses and Dukes are made, 
Some attired in deepest hue 
Decked with diamonds of dew, 
Others dressed in robes of white 
Blushing pink, or scarlet bright, 
Wait in state on King and Queen, 
Fairest in the Court I ween. 

Fair, though not of royal birth, 
Grow the gentry flowers of earth ; 
Mignonette in sober brown, 
Candy-tuft in 'broidered gown, 
Daisies in the garden beds, 
Tossing saucy little heads, 
Gentle Violets in blue, 
Sparkling in the drops of dew. 



72 THE FLORAL KINGDOM. 

Fumbling o'er their beads to tell, 
Hooded Monks sequestered dwell; 
Bowing low their heads in prayer, 
Knowing naught of worldly care, 
Chanting low their solemn dirge, 
Paying gold their sins to purge, 
Fasting in their narrow cells. 
Till the fainting soul rebels. 

Growing common and despised, 
Only by the children prized. 
Doing each his portioned toil, 
Whatsoever place or soil. 
Dandelions from the sod 
Lift their faces up to God, 
Faces full of sunny light, 
Ever cheerful fresh and bright. 



WINTER'S DEATH AND SPRING'S 
CORONATION. 

T T 7 INTER lingered, moaning, sighing, 

^ ^ All rejoiced that he was dying ; 
That his reign was nearly over — 
That the Wind, that boist'rous rover, 
Full of frolic, and of fury. 
Would be tried by court and jury, 
And the servants of the weather, 
Air, and sun, and sky together. 
Would subdue the lawless rover 
As he roamed the wide world over. 
But the Wind burst out in laughter, 
And the Ice-King traveled after. 
With his loom and shuttle weaving 
Spotless robes for Winter's leaving. 



74 winter's DEATH. 

And the shroud lay, pure as ermine, 
Till the Death-King should determine. 
When to still the faint heart throbbing, 
And the old man waited sobbing, 
For he could not die so lonely. 
With the Wind, and Ice-King only. 
And he yearned for Spring his daughter. 
But in vain the Ice-King sought her 
When she came, his life was fleeting, 
And, tho* sorrowful the meeting. 
Poor old Winter ceased his groaning, 
And the wild Wind stopped his moaning ; 
While the King, no more repining, 
On his daughter's breast reclining. 
Throne and Kingdom to her tendered 
And to Death his spirit rendered. 
Then the heart of Spring was mournful, 
And she heeded not the scornful. 



winter's DEATH. 75 

As they, sneering, mocked her grieving, 
While she mourned for Winter's leaving. 
With her tears the vales were watered ; 
All the ice-embankments tottered, 
And the zephyrs played and fluttered, 
While the Ice-King vengeance muttered. 
Then the Wind, confused, retreated : 
All acknowledged him defeated, 
And the zephyrs left him lonely, 
While the Ice-King proved true, only. 
So he hied him to the mountains. 
But King Sol unlocked the fountains, 
All the fettered springs of water ; 
And the Ice-King could but totter, 
As he saw his vast dominions 
Float away as if on pinions. 
Then Spring's subjects, true and loyal 
Clamored for the crowning royal. 



J^ winter's DEATH. 

And they decked her in her brightest 
Robes of blue, and mist the whitest, 
And a scepter strong she wielded, 
But 'twas love, not power that shielded. 
With a crown of purple violets 
Shining bright with golden eyelets, 
Gentle Spring was crowned in splendor, 
All the glory Sol could render. 
Merry birds burst out in singing, 
Far and wide their chorus flinging, 
And the trees waved forth for banners. 
Quite forgetting stately manners, 
And the zephyrs light and airy. 
Floated strains of music fairy. 



FETTERED. 

T CLIP thy wings, my bird, 

^ In kindly love ; 

Like as our God above 
Restraineth us. 

When zve would soar too high. 
And sinking downward die. 

Thou art too weak, my bird. 

Thy strength to try ; 

Wounded thou canst not fly. 
So rest content ; — 

God holds us down to earth. 

To give new pinions birth. 



8o FETTERED. 

Thou must not flutter so, 

But wait in peace ; 

When all thy struggles cease 
Thy wounds will heal ; 

I'll care for thee my bird, 

Undoubting trust my v/ord. 

So when our God above, 
In mercy sweet, 
Restrains our erring feet, 

We murmur sore ; 

Nor see his wisdom great, 
While mourning o'er our fate. 

If thou wilt still rebel 
O, panting heart! 
And seeketh still to part 



FETTERED. 8l 

From this kind love, 
I'll give thee up to go 
To death, and keenest woe. 

But if content, my bird, 

Awhile to rest 

On this true loving breast, 
Till thou art healed ; 

Then shalt thou soar to heaven, 

Thy freedom gladly given. « 



THE HOLY CALM. 

T T TITH softly quivering breath the final 

^ ^ tone 

From out the old church organ dies away ; 
The last '' amen " remains in echoes faint 
Within the sacred walls, and, in its import deep, 
Still lingers in the hearts of those who wait, 
With bended knee, and humbled, reverent head, 
To break the holy spell which binds them there. 
One short still space of sanctifying awe, 
In which the soul seeks yearningly its God, 
And seems to feel sweet drops of grace divine 
Fall on the heart with soothing, healing power, 
As in the benediction words of peace 
And tender, loving mercy reached the ear. 



THEHOLYCALM. 83 

It rests the soul so prostrate in its need, 
And gives it inner life to rise again. 
It heals the spirit's wounds, and gently draws 
The thorns from out the harrassed Christian's 

mind; 
Rebellion turns to sweet submissive trust, 
And worldly aims sink downward, all subdued. 



THE SUMACH TREE. 

/^^ GRACEFUL sumach tree, with bended 

^■^ bough ! 

Which hast such power to tune my spirit's 
lyre, 

Thy wondrous symmetry is very art. 

And yet of Nature's mould thy form entire. 

Thy downcast, drooping leaves of faultless cut, 
In waving make the stilly air abound 

In mournful, murm'ring cadences of song. 

That in my answ'ring heart I hear resound. 

With quiv'ring barbs thy scarlet feathers seek 
To make superbly rich thy simple dress, 

To heighten all thy native loveliness. 
Nor yet to make thy purity the less. 



THESUMACHTREE. 8$ 

With spreading shade thy arching branches bend 
And make a cool retreat, for fairies fit, 

While through the fringing shafts of shelt'ring 
leaves 
The sunny rays like angels' shadows flit 

And can it be thou hast no answ'ring soul, 
On which to soar with me to heights sublime? 

No other part of that external grace 

To spread itself o'er boundless tracks of time? 

From every pointed twig and supple leaf, 
A living murmur sadly answers *' No ; " 

I'll wake for you a soul within my own 
To fly with me wherever I may go. 



MORNING. 

/^^'ER the purple ridge of highland, 
^-^ Through the arching misty gray. 
Breaks a crimson flood of glory, 
Brilliant dawning of the day. 

All the land is bathed in beauty, 
Charming blushes Nature wears ; 

Ev'ry tiny loch and fountain 

Helps reflect the bloom she shares. 

Softly bright the holy splendor 
Lights the mountain and the vale. 

Gleams in twinkles through the fir trees. 
Like a thousand tapers pale. 



MORNING. 87 

Not SO red the wild-sprung roses 
Flow'ring on the craggy steep, 

As the loving light of morning 
When the sun-sent glories sweep. 

Sombre shades, like smoky columns, 
• Half obscure the tender hue ; 
But the bar of fretted cloud-work 
Lets the streaking splendor through. 

Sight divine and rich in grandeur! 

Ere thy glowing colors pale, 
In this one brief space of rapture, 

Faith could almost rend the veil. 



TO MISS M. E. E. , 

X IVE in thyself, apart from those of 

-* — ^ baser minds ; 

In contemplation feed on what thy spirit finds ; 
Its dwelling consecrate a temple for thy soul ; 
In prospect fair behold the brightest, loftiest 
goal; 

In truth thy conscience keep, to view thyself 

aright ; 
Be humble in thy glory, lowly in thy might. 
Yet live not to thyself, but to Another's praise ; 
Live, work for Him, the idlest of your life s 

few days ; 
And yet, I would not have thee change from 

what thou art — 



TO MISS M. E. E. 89 

Nor give, nor take from thee one single blessed 
part ; 

Of earth, but wearing graces of another sphere^ 
In vain thy heart's fond hope to find them 
mated here. 

But in thy search for that which inly thou dost 
know 

But cannot tell ; which, budding, ne'er but buds 

will show. 
Thou e'er wilt find, my May, that graces 

earthly born 

Will quickly fade like sparkling dew in early 
morn. 



TO MRS. R C. 

T T THAT poem, that / can write, 

* ^ Can equal that of which 
Thou art the centred life? 
Each day another verse, 
Each hour another line, 
Is formed unconsciously. 
No critic e'er can find. 
That scans however true, 
A metre incomplete, 
Or cadence lacking song. 
A poem that has no name, 
For, looking far from self. 
Thou never hast discerned 
Thy spirit's melody ; 



I 



TO MRS. p. C. 91 

Or rather, with its tune, 
Thy heart is over-full, 
And cannot analyze 
The secret of its power. 
Its soothing harmony 
Enchants all troubled nriinds 
And bringeth sxveet relief 
To ev'ry aching heart. 
Then ask me not to write 
A poem for thee, my friend, 
When all thy lovely life 
Is song, though unexpressed. 



CLOUDS. 

SEE the clouds! so fleecy, fairy; 
Floating onward, bright and airy; 
Into wondrous forms e'er shifting. 
Floating, sailing, playing, drifting; 
By a gentle motion driven, 
By a flutt'ring zephyr riven ; 
With the blue of heaven blended, 
'Twixt the earth and sky suspended. 

See the clouds turn dull and leaden! 
See the glowing colors deaden ! 
All the brightness now is fleeting. 
And the blue-gray clouds are meeting, 
'Till they form a curtain sombre, 
And all nature seems to slumber; 
While the winds morosely mutter 
And the leaves and branches flutter. 



CLOUDS. 93 

See the clouds piled black and massive! 
Hear the wind, no longer passive, 
Whistling, "moaning, shrieking, roaring; 
And the water torrents pouring, 
As the rain comes dashing, splashing, 
And the thunder-peals are crashing; 
While the elements are clashing, 
And the lurid lightning flashing. 

See the sky with crimson flooded ! 
With its gold and silver studded I 
All the angry clouds are rifted. 
Far asunder they have drifted ; 
And the sun in state descending, 
O'er the land his glory sending. 
Sinks below the hill-tops slowly. 
Giving thoughts sublime and holy. 



UNSATISFIED. 

r^ SOMETIMES I wish I had never been 
^^ taught 

Of the fountains and rivers of Knowledge, 
Or tasted the water with sacrifice bought, 

So effulgent in bright leaping bubbles ; 
For the cooling delight of the dangerous sips, 

Only quaffed like the drops of an ocean, 
But thirsty, and thirstier makes my parched 
lips, 

While my longing grows daily intenser. 

O, sometimes I wish I had never essayed 

To indulge in the dreams of Love's potion, 

So quickly and surely the visions all fade 
When created by each subtle nectar ; 



UNSATISFIED. 95 

And wild Fancy pictures each revel more sweet, 

But to find it so soon a delusion, 
While only is left the white passionate heat 

Of a strong soul burnt white in a furnace. 

And while I sit murmuring o'er the decree 
Which has suffered my soul to be blighted. 

An angelic chorus comes ringing to me, 
All enraptured I list for the answer : 

" Why mourn ye, O, mortal ! because of thy 
thirst ? 
Go and taste of Life's waters of crystal, 

Once taken, the draught need be never re- 
hearsed, 

A perpetual fountain internal. 

Then learn ye the lessons that God's works 
impart, 

For the earth with each rain-drop rejoiceth, 



96 UNSATISFIED. 

Nor vieweth the future with tremulous heart, 
Or with fear of the time when it parcheth : 

For knoweth she well of the dew of the morn, 
That which daily sustaineth her burden, 

And though the hot mid-day might make her 
forlorn. 
Still she liveth in hope of her blessings. 

" She blames not the noon-heat that warpeth 
her life. 

For she knoweth the vapor ascended. 
Will sometime distill into showers that are rife 

With the choicest of blessings from heaven ; 
And so doth the pity of God take your pray'rs 

With your tearful uplookings for mercy. 
And, sweetly distilling them, moisten hard cares 

With the once needed shower of His graces." 



NATURE'S WORSHIP. 

T ONELY in the forest, 'neath the rusfling 

•*• '^ pines, 

Note the whispered worship when the day 
declines ; 

Hark ! the muttered vespers ! see the branches 

bow, 
Hear the low confession, mark the earnest vow ; 
While anon the songsters form a tuneful choir, 
And the sun descending yields the sacred fire : 
Whispers from the brooklet join the chanted lay. 

Sweetest thanks and praises close die peaceful 

day; 
While a passing zephyr, flitting near the sod, 
Takes the offered incense, bears it up to God ; 



98 nature's WORSHIP. 

And a solemn quiet gently seems to steal 
O'er my troubled spirit, as I wond'ring feel 
Thrills of new-born rapture and of holy fear, 
While the soft'ning influence draws the contrite 
tear. 



AUTUMNAL MEMORIES. 

IV /r Y thoughts are strangely roving 
-*- ^ -■- Through the past ; 
They flit in restless eddies 

Whirling fast, 
While dying leaves are rushing 

At my feet, 
To meet the surging mem'ries 

Passing sweet. 

I breathe the spicy odor 

Of a day. 
When fragrant, cool, October 

Breezes play : 
I see in glowing vision 

Gorgeous trees, 



100 AUTUMNAL MEMORIES. 

That flaunt their crimson glory 
In the breeze. 

The wind, a ringing laughter 

Bears to me ; 
I see a group of children 

'Neath the tree ; 
I hush my heart to listen, 

With a pain, 
To catch the bitter pleasure 

I may gain. 

I watch the airy footsteps 

One by one. 
Trip light, fantastic circles 

In their fun, 
And hear the quick vibration, 

Strangely sweet, 



AUTUMNAL MEMORIES. lOI 

The snapping, crispy crackle 
'Neath their feet. 

Then withered leaves are gathered 

In a heap. 
I see a bon-fire's blazes 

Quickly leap ; 
The children's chilly fingers 

Seek the glow, 
While 'round the smoke-wreaths curling 

Zephyrs blow. 

I see a roguish urchin 

Stir the mass, 
The timid ones to frighten 

As they pass; — 
I view the dying embers 

Slowly pale; 



102 AUTUMNAL MEMORIES. 

Not all the kindly zephyrs 
Now avail. 

I turn me to the outlook 

Of to-day ; 
Those children of my vision, 

Where are they? 
Some gone beyond the fading 

Of the leaves; 
While others wait the binding 

Of their sheaves. 



THE LESSON OF THE SNOW. 

'^ I ^ HE savage Frost-king drew his flashing 

-*- sword 

Of keen-edged ice, all diamond-bright with 

jewels, 
And fiercely thrust its length in Nature's heart ; 
That throbbing heart so full of happy life. 
So wondrous in pulsations glad and strong. 
Then e'en the severed chords as if to cry 
To Heaven for ample vengeance, struggled long, 
And turned their scarred, torn edges to the sky. 
All Nature's children bowed in calm despair, 
And fell in helpless sorrow 'gainst the blade 
Which took her life. With reverent touch 

the earth 
Drew soft within her breast the sacred corpse. 



I04 THE LESSON OF THE SNOW. 

And sought to give to it her own life-warmth ; 
Revive it with her tears. But all in vain ! 
The face of earth grew dark as starless night, 
And Desolation took his stern abode 
Above the hallowed dust. God looked below, 
And saw in pity all the work of ruin : 
He stopped the sportive snowflakes in their 
play, 

And sent them on an errand of His love, 
To weave the poor old earth a mantle new, 
And cause men's hearts to gladden once again 
At her fresh charms. The cloud-gates softly 

swung 
Ajar, and down the white-winged angels flew 
To do their work of love. But when the world. 
So dark and dreary, loomed upon their sight, 
They shuddered to approach, and closer drew 



THE LESSON OF THE SNOW. 105 

Their dainty plumings 'round their tiny forms 

Lest they should soil them with the dust of 
earth. 

They strove with all their strength to wing their 
flight 

Back to their cloud-land home, but hosts on 
hosts 

Of flakelets, still descending, bore them down ; 

They called the flying zephyrs to their aid, 

And, finally, the rough old wind came by, 

In blustering tune and sought with kindly zeal 

To bear them up. They feared his boist'rous 

breath 
Would tear their slender wings, and bade him 

go- 
So, one by one, they ceased their struggling 

flight, 
And wearily accepted each its fate. 



I06 THE LESSON OF THE SNOW. 

The earth once more rejoiced, and human hearts 
Sang wondrous bits of song within themselves, 
Then was the snow content, and though its 

sheen 
So soon grew dingy with the tramp of feet, 
It knew that it had brought a note of joy, 
Which, though men knew it not, was God's own 

Word; 
Its sweet fulfillment. — Off the sun's face then 
The gathered mists rolled upward to reveal 
Love's ending of the lesson, deeply sweet ; 
For by its powerful rays once more to Heaven 
Was drawn the snow, not bearing on its wings 
The filth and dust of earth, but angel-pure, 
Updrawn in God's good time, in God's own 

way. 



MY OLIVE BRANCH: 

MY heart's an ark, 
That rides Life's stormy sea; 

One Httle lonely bark, 
Sailing the waters dark, 
Wond'ringly. 

Hungry for rest. 

It longs at peace to be ; 
Weary of fruitless quest. 
Crying in fear suppressed, 

Yearningly. 

O'er the waves cold 

Ambition flieth free ; 
Flies as the raven bold 
Flew from the ark of old, 

Daringly. 



I08 MY OLIVE BRANCH. 

' Flying above, 

He never returns to me; 
Then soareth faithful love, 
Hast'neth my snow-winged dove, 
Trustfully. 

No rest in sight, 

So homeward turneth she ; 
Staying her hopeless flight. 
Biding the dawn of light. 

Patiently. 

The wild winds cease, 

Again she skims the sea ; 
Bringeth the branch of peace, 
Telling of sweet release, 
Cheeringly, 



MY OLIVE BRANCH. IO9 

And now she's flown 

For aye away from me ; 
My love has found its own, 
Resting at Jesus' throne, 

Blessedly. 

The ark will stop, 

The wearied heart be free ; 
Seeing the last storm-drop, 
'Twill touch the mountain-top 

Joyfully. 



015 926 931 



